


We Need To Talk

by Evandar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: hp_creatures, F/F, Werewolf, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-21 22:30:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8262740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evandar/pseuds/Evandar
Summary: "We need to talk" is a phrase no one likes to hear, but it doesn’t always mean bad news. Lavender certainly thinks that Pansy’s announcement deserves some later exploration.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** [43](http://hp-creatures.livejournal.com/267482.html?thread=1476314#t1476314)
> 
> **Creature:** Vampire (and Werewolf)
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** This creation is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offense is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.
> 
>  **Notes:** I loved this prompt! I hope you don’t mind me working some werewolf!Lavender into it as well. Thank you to S for the beta work and for acting as a sounding board while I was writing.

"We need to talk" is never a pleasant thing to hear. Not six months into a relationship; especially not when she’d thought things were going well.

She perches on the edge of Pansy’s uncomfortable sofa. The leather of the cushions squeaks every time she moves and it sticks to her thighs, but she bites her tongue the same way she always does and sips at a cup of instant coffee as she watches Pansy pace in front of her. 

Pansy is… She’s beautiful and graceful, even when she’s agitated. Her feathery black hair is spiked up and wild from where she’s been running her fingers through it, and there’s a faint flush in her pale cheeks. Lavender wants nothing more than to reach out and touch her; to slide her arms around her and kiss her, but she doesn’t dare. She grips her coffee mug a little harder and sips reflexively. It’s dark and comforting – Pansy _gave_ it to her, so she has to want her to stay. Even if it is just long enough to break up with her.

Lavender winces and takes another sip. She doesn’t want to think about that. It’s…a possibility. _"We need to talk."_ Not that there’s much talking going on, but that’s what it’s always meant before. 

Pansy sits. Abruptly. The sofa squeaks under her. It’s silly, but the ridiculousness of Pansy’s stylish but almost completely unusable sofa actually makes her feel better. She feels a smile tug at the corner of her lips, but she freezes when Pansy’s pale eyes flick down to her mouth. This isn’t the time for humour. This is her relationship. This is _Pansy_. She takes another sip of coffee and tries to compose herself.

"You wanted to talk," she says after she’s swallowed.

Pansy winces. "Yes," she says. "I did. I do. I –" She clears her throat and shakes her head and takes a deep breath. She looks like someone trying to balance on the edge of a cliff. "There’s something you should know. About me. That – I should have told you a while ago, but, well." 

She clears her throat again. Lavender looks away, down into her mug. She braces herself for an _"it’s not you, it’s me"_ and a nudge towards the Floo. She drains her coffee in preparation for a swift exit and creaks her way closer to the edge of her seat.

"What is it?" she asks. For all that she’s just had a drink, her mouth feels dry. She doesn’t _want_ this thing with Pansy to end. Pansy is sharp-tongued and sharp-witted, but she’s toned down her cruelty since they left school. She’s never stared at the scars Greyback left on Lavender’s neck and shoulder or treated them like they were in any way different from the rest of her body, even though they were hideously obvious next to Pansy’s pale perfection. She’s never been offended by Lavender’s snappishness before the full moon or her lethargy afterwards; has never given the slightest hint that Lavender’s lycanthropy bothers her. But… Lavender swallows awkwardly. She refuses to cry. _Refuses_. At least until she’s at home and free to throw plates at her walls in frustration. It’s _always_ the lycanthropy.

Pansy’s hand curls gently around her wrist. Her thin fingers are as cold against Lavender’s skin as they always are, and the familiarity of that stings deep in her chest.

"It’s not –" Pansy says, and the sting turns into a stabbing ache. Lavender bites her lip and glances up at her. She wants to pull away; cut her losses and run while she can and _not_ force herself to sit through a list of excuses that she really hadn’t been expecting this time. But no amount of howling at the moon can change the fact that Lavender is a Gryffindor, so she sits and waits and _hurts_.

Pansy’s grip on her tightens. Even white teeth press into her red-painted lips, and she’s so _beautiful_ and so _sad_ that Lavender just wants to hold her. _Still_ , even though it hurts to breathe a little bit.

"I’m sorry," Pansy says. "I’m – oh fucking hell, I’m doing this all wrong. I should – I should have told you that you weren’t the only one. The only one bitten during the battle, I mean. I, er-"

"What?" Lavender asks, because…no. She’s seen every inch of Pansy’s body, up-close and intimate, and there’s not a single scar on her. Not even a single nick on her fingers from a potions knife. She’s smooth and pale and flawless and there’s no way on earth that Greyback got her too.

Pansy’s lips quirk up into the tiniest of smiles. "The Dark Lord was deranged at the end," she says. "He thought he could convince vampires that he was trustworthy. He brought them into his army and sent them up against the Order and the students and…well, not all of them decided that they’d rather be somewhere else."

A pale hand flutters up to her neck. Lavender follows the movement, confused for just a moment before the meaning sinks in. She stares. Relief floods through her so powerfully that she drops her empty mug as she doubles over, giggling.

"Lavender?"

"Is that _it_?" she asks.

Pansy’s hand pulls back. Lavender reaches out to her again; catches those thin, cold fingers before Pansy can withdraw completely into herself. She leans back, squeaking and creaking on the stupid sofa, and pulls Pansy closer. 

"Vampire, huh?" she asks.

It explains a lot. _No one_ made it through Snape’s classes without cutting themselves at least once; there should be scars. It explains the cold of her skin too, and the way that her smile seems to stretch beyond human limits sometimes. It also explains her ability to freeze and focus with alarming intensity. She has a habit of doing that in bed, poised over between Lavender’s legs; she’d thought it was a peculiarly arousing quirk, but apparently it’s something closer to predatory instincts.

"Yes, well," Pansy starts. She slides her hand up from her neck into her hair, twisting the short strands around her fingers. "I did wonder if you already knew, being a werewolf and all. All of the textbooks say that our species are meant to hate each other, but you never said anything and…"

"And the textbooks are bollocks and you know it," Lavender interrupts. It’s true of the ones about werewolves, anyway; she’s read them all from cover to cover and patched together something resembling the truth from a collection of half-truths and myths. Vampires are more glamourous, for all that they’re more dangerous. She’d thought it would be different for them. Judging from the expression on Pansy’s face, it isn’t.

She giggles. Pansy smiles back at her, eerily wide, before she too begins to laugh. She leans her head on Lavender’s shoulder, her face close to her neck, and Lavender feels her heart skip a beat. Pansy stiffens slightly; shifts so that her pointed chin is digging into Lavender’s scarred collarbone. She _heard_ that, Lavender realises.

"You have fangs, right?" Lavender asks.

"Yes?"

"And, uh, I’m probably not toxic to you, right?"

Pansy leans back. Her smile is unnaturally wide and her eyes are knowing, even as she says, "your blood doesn’t smell any different from anyone else’s most of the time."

Lavender shrugs off the ‘most of the time’. She has a feeling she knows when those times are, and sexual experimentation around the full moon isn’t something she’s up for. She curls her hands around Pansy’s narrow waist, pulling her closer. Pansy’s lips part, and she catches a glimpse of bone-white fangs. Her belly tightens in response. There’s a prickling sensation on the back of her neck and a rush of warmth between her thighs and she damn near drags Pansy’s willing body onto her lap.

"Are you fetishizing me, Miss Brown?" Pansy drawls, even as she winds her fingers into Lavender’s curls and tugs her head back, bearing her throat.

"Only a little," Lavender replies.

She can feel Pansy laughing into their kiss. Whether she’s laughing at Lavender or with her doesn’t matter; that she’s laughing at all, content in her arms, is enough for now. The vampirism can be explored…a little later.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love. Please comment here or on [livejournal](http://hp-creatures.livejournal.com/276392.html) for the author to see. Author will remain anonymous until reveals later this month!


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